Halo: Beyond Recognition
by ASniper
Summary: The story of a fractured team of SPARTAN-IIIs, powers best left undisturbed, and memories of an entire universe.


**A Bit of Intro**

Greetings, I am 343 - wait a minute, wrong. Ah, better. I'm Ahalosniper, a user on the Halo Fanon Wikia. What follows is the first part of the story I've been working on recently, which actually goes back two years to when I started writing fan fiction. There were two previous stories leading up to this, but since their writing I've retconned a lot of stuff, for example making my main characters S-III Gammas, and I've done my best to recap those events in the first two chapters without getting in the way of myself. While I normally post on HF, I thought I'd post it here to have a chance at getting feedback. HF users aren't exactly talkative. And if you take an interest, check out more stories of Kodiak, Dyne, and a legion of other SPARTANs at the Halo Fanon Wikia.

The year is 2574, two decades since the end of the Human-Covenant War. After the Second Battle of Earth, Kodiak-G114 and Dyne-G217 had been placed in military exploration, until not long ago, a Flood emergence on the planet they were surveying caused them to be caught up in the obligations of their advisor Erin Coney, who had been preparing to sever her last tie with the Office of Naval Intelligence by going on a last, black ops mission for them. She tried to leave them on the infested planet, but Spartans are hard to kill. Now, after learning things they'd rather not have known, they and three other S-IIIs are en route through slipspace to Jericho VII, with only Kodiak's word there is a Flood infestation breaking out. They are headed straight for the fight of their lives, but are unaware just how it will take shape. Everything they knew is about to go beyond recognition.

**1: Geas**

Everyone has their problems. Even the Spartans, despite their invincible image, shined spotless by the Office of Naval Intelligence's propaganda, have chinks in the armor. And Kodiak's problems weren't always a marauding alien warrior. He was sure no one in this universe had had this particular problem before. Jaded by stark realities of war, knowing no more than a gun and an objective, they'd preclude it as the ability of a higher power which surely did not exist. But here he was. With memories that weren't his own, and some hadn't even transpired yet.

Omniscience? Precognizance? No, that was far from it. Instilled in his mind were only a few snapshots of time from different places, different people, few complete and none clear. He was beginning to find it hard to distinguish which were his own memories and if they were real or not.

No, that was silly, he was him and those memories were his . . . that was nonsense. But nonsense at this time made sense. Do what works.

Sitting back quietly in his chair on the bridge of the stealthed freighter UNSC _Nightshade_, he again tried to sift through them.

He wasn't supposed to be awake. In a slipspace jump, the standard protocol was for servicemen and women to be placed in cryogenic pods, which Kodiak couldn't help but think was to prolong the soldiers' number of years they could fight. But he'd long since gotten used to the quiet. For almost two decades, he'd been on the exploration carrier ''Themistocles'' and would volunteer for duty as part of the skeleton crew that was awake during a months-long jump. He knew how to make use of time.

But he wasn't sparring with another Spartan or lifting weights or training in zero-G, now. He was trying to figure out what these things meant, and over the last two weeks in slipspace had only become more frustrated. The visions he had were at once clearer than any memory of his own, but actively evaded his mind so he never got a good grasp of exactly what they were. Was this an intended part of the knowledge when the woman in the Covenant dig site had spoken to him through his thoughts?

Telepathy? Maybe.

The memories were hazy, hidden in the far corners of his mind waiting to be unlocked. What they were waiting for and how they knew to wait Kodiak didn't know. His whole life had been suddenly twisted beyond recognition . . .

There might be one place where he could get answers. The few things he knew for certain centered around one person. Kodiak got up out of the chair and left the darkened bridge behind, to speak with someone who'd long been in the business of keeping secrets.

Before he even entered the cargo bay, Kodiak could hear the sound of a hacksaw working back and forth. She might have been an ONI spook, but she'd been a marine long before and liked to make good use of her time.

As the doors opened, they revealed what had been a cargo bay had been turned into a workshop. Crates containing weapons and ordnance had been pried open and left on workbenches with half-completed modifications. At one of these tables stood a middle-aged woman in a form-fitting suit colored red and black, working with a silenced M7 SMG she'd put in a vise. The hacksaw finished its work, severing the foregrip and letting it fall to the floor with a loud clack.

Erin Coney's blue-green eyes inspected her work, and with a satisfied smile, she clipped it to her left side and set another one in the vise.

"Lieutenant." He said, breaking her concentration. Though she'd heard him come in, the use of her rank unsettled her. Kodiak had always used her first name, even on official radio channels, which he knew annoyed her. It made the formality seem uncomfortable. She began working on the second gun.

"I thought you were tending the bridge, Kodiak." She said. He was unable to see her face behind a veil of graying sable hair.

"I got bored." He moved over to an interior wall and tapped it with his fist, listening intently to the reverberations. Erin finished sawing the second grip, and heard Kodiak tap the wall panel again.

"What are you doing?" Coney asked, still not looking at him.

Not coming up with the right sound, Kodiak moved to the next one. This time there was a distinct difference. "I want answers, Erin. Simple as that."

It didn't sound like a request. "And what exactly do you want to know?"

"You said once that Spartans don't forgive." He tapped the panel again, identifying a different reverberation. Abruptly his gauntleted forearm bashed against the panel, and then tore the dented metal from the remaining bolts.

Inlayed in a locker behind was a suit that stood eye-to-eye with Kodiak's towering figure. The visor and all too familiar lines identified it as MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor.

"You ought to know. You are one yourself."

Erin turned to him, then followed his enraptured gaze and also stared at the suit. After a moment, she turned back to the bench and set down the saw, trying to gather her thoughts. Kodiak was content to let her as he stared at this empty shell, both familiar and a ghostly stranger.

It was a Mark V(b) frame at its core, identical to the suits he and Dyne wore. But unlike either of them, this body armor was untouched, the still fresh coating of black paint almost glossy. Its jet-black ballistic layer blended seamlessly with the paint over unfamiliar Up-Armored chest and shoulder plates. The only break in its smoky coloration was the thin, silver-blue visor. Kodiak could see his own reflection in it, and in that reflection of his own electrum-alloy visor he could see the suit again.

"What variant is this?" Kodiak asked, letting her know her time was up.

"An ONI-modified five-b suit, called the Enforcer. Only a handful were stolen and made, and fewer are still around." She had spun to face him, leaning back against the table. She awaited his questions.

He chose his first carefully. "I've never asked, out of respect, but . . . how old are you, exactly? Chronologically, that is."

An amused smile played on her lips. "You're learning that most things aren't what they seem. That's good. To answer your question, I was born in 2474, about one hundred years ago."

It surprised Kodiak. He'd known she was far younger biologically due to extreme lengths of time in cryostasis, but not by such a large margin. He realized by her smile he was losing the edge in the conversation. She also had questions, but he wasn't about to let her avoid his. "How did you become involved in the ORION program? And the Naval Intel?"

Her smile vanished, replaced by pursed lips and clenched teeth. "You're asking short questions that have inherently long answers. So, you'd best take a seat, we'll be talking a while." After he did, on a heavy machine gun crate, she continued. "I wanted to be a career soldier from the beginning. After enough of the gang warfare in Earth's undercities, you have to get out, and you're already tough enough for the UNSC. I was good at whatever they threw at me. So I got an option. A test, to see if someone young, and right out of basic, could compete with veterans in ORION."

She paused and looked him over, as if satisfied with something. "I did so well that it led Halsey to use younger candidates for her SPARTANs. So really, I'm part of the reason you, or any SPARTAN candidate, has been chosen." Another pause, as if she was returning to a main narrative.

"Back then, we were the best. Smarter and stronger than anyone before, and without your armor, we could have been anyone. We had the Innies checking under their beds at night. But all good things . . . in the end, we were split up, made to lose contact with each other and scattered into various Special Forces groups. But an offer was made to me. By Margaret Parangosky."

She checked to see if Kodiak would respond to the name of the legendary Naval Intelligence Director. If he did, it was concealed by the MJOLNIR visor.

"I learned later that my last mission was a test of my . . . subtlety. Being able to gather enough information without being discovered, able to bring greater plans into fruition. If I knew then what I was getting into, I might have shot her then and there. It would have saved more people than just me a lot of trouble. In any case, back then Parangosky was only a Captain, climbing ladders dangerously fast. Every high-ranking person in the Office has personal agents used for their own ends. I was the first one she recruited, and if I might say, the best. I killed for her without explanation time and again. It didn't matter who it was, just that the Director needed them dead."

Her tone became bitter again. "Then I asked questions. Started researching who I killed. It wasn't taken well. Then one op, a real easy one against Insurrectionist bomb suppliers. I got the data, blew up the lab, and got into the safehouse to start transmitting it when someone ambushed me. It was amateur night, you could tell, and I killed him without a problem. I never could confirm it, but I bet it was Parangosky's new protégé, a guy codenamed REDSHIRT.

"It was all downhill from there in the relationship. Finally, I broke every protocol in the book when I used the _Nightshade_, here," she patted a bulkhead, "to rescue a pair of SPARTAN-IIs. I was brought to a meeting room, and I expected to have to shoot my way out. But instead of trying to kill me, I was dismissed from the Office. I'd never been so happy. After that, I was sent to Onyx to help select and find the Gamma recruits. You. Dyne. Sepia. And all the rest." She took in a long breath, grinning with some sort of defiance. "There you are. That's my history. Does the knowledge make you happy?"

"No." Kodiak answered distractedly as he made a few private connections. Knowledge had never brought him bliss. But he had to know more. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked. They'd been working closely for nearly all of Kodiak's life, and she'd never been open with them about her past.

Pain flashed in Erin's eyes. "And get you involved with all this? I was alone as an agent, kept to myself completely. Do you know how hard it was to try to forget everyone from ORION? When I left, you and the Gammas reminded me so much of what we'd been. Even now, you're still just kids, even with military discipline . . . whatever little you and Dyne got out of it." She averted her eyes and sniffed once. "Maybe another Gamma team. But I would have rather killed you than brought you into this. I tried." She smiled at him, eyes barely constraining tears. "But . . . you're very hard to kill."

Every part of him wanted to comfort her and assure her she'd done the right thing. But he couldn't. She regained her composure on her own. "So," she asked, her firm voice returning, "how did you know about the suit? Did you use the Force, or something?"

She was referring to his change since the Forerunner relic. Erin knew he had some sort of extra awareness, but wasn't sure how it worked. Kodiak still had little idea himself. "It doesn't work like that." He said, not sure if it was Kodiak who said it. "I just know things I shouldn't."

"You always seem to. It's got you and Dyne, ''and me'' into some 'fun' situations." Her grin was a little malicious, teasing him about a number of the incidents. The 'gunship incident' in particular came to mind.

"Not these things. Some of these aren't human memories."

Erin changed again, becoming analytical. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled. "Now who's asking the vague questions?"

Before the echoes of their quiet laughter died, a feminine voice came over the intercom. "Lieutenant, Specialist, we are close to exiting slipspace. You should be present on the bridge."

"We hear you, Jasmine." Coney replied, loudly to make sure the mics picked up. She was an AI, for the time being their ship AI, though her dedicated task was technically biology. As she prepared to leave the room, expecting Kodiak to follow, he asked, "Why don't you wear the suit?"

She stalled. As Erin glanced at the MJOLNIR suit, Kodiak understood more than her answer revealed. "I'm not like you. It isn't my suit." Erin was an ORION, one of their siblings, not a SPARTAN. And it had been very long since she'd called herself one of them. She wasn't ready to symbolically be one of them. But with the trials ahead, Kodiak couldn't afford her not to take advantage of the suit's power. He clasped her shoulder.

"Once, always. A SPARTAN." He passed her, heading for the bridge as she hesitated. She would join him and the others later. Once she was encased in the titanium-A Powered Assault Armor.

**2: Familiarization**

He found the _Nightshade_'s bridge was much as he'd left it, except for the other armored figure, barely more than a shadow in the dim light. Dyne didn't take notice of Kodiak's arrival, continuing to stare out into the twisting void of slipspace.

His friend had changed significantly since they'd begun the jump, half a month ago. When Kodiak had received his geas. When they realized Sepia was alive. When Morgan had died.

Dyne's ever-constant grin had all but disappeared. No jokes, not even much more than a mumbled answer to a direct question had come out of him. He'd sealed himself off in a lower aft section of the ship, as far away from Kodiak, Coney, and even the other three SPARTANs in their cryo chambers as he could get.

Kodiak had passed those sections once or twice. He had heard the helmet recordings from when Dyne and Morgan had worked together replaying, over and over. He was taking her death hard.

His own recollection of the SPARTAN in her soft blue reconnaissance armor was of a soldier who did things by the book, and always ensured her orders were carried out. Confident, if maybe a little stubborn and short on patience, an exemplary SPARTAN-III. Why someone as troublesome as Dyne would take an interest in her, and she in him, Kodiak still didn't know.

And now she was dead.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed something odd about Dyne's armor. On his shoulder, red paint coated the Multi-Threat armor plate, and small designs had been added over it. Examining closer, he realized these were SPARTAN emblems, symbols of teams or individuals that had chosen to create personal crests. He recognized the mark of Team Triad, a Gamma team deployed early and all members listed MIA according to Directive 930. Next to it was that of Team Gladius, presumed dead when Onyx was destroyed. He caught on that these were the marks of their deceased friends. Morgan's emblem lay in the center.

Jasmine's smooth voice emanated from the walls. "Exiting slipspace in sixteen minutes. I began unfreezing Mirage Team an hour ago, they will be present here in seven minutes."

"Thanks, Jas." Kodiak said, as hesitant as he was to break the silence.

It was a long, tense time before Dyne asked evenly, "What are we up against on Jericho?"

Unlike their overseer, Dyne hadn't questioned why or how he knew to set course for the recolonized world of Jericho VII. He'd accepted that Kodiak knew something, and gone with it. In a more disciplined SPARTAN, Kodiak would have expected this to be the result of obedience toward his commander, but that was never his teammate. Dyne was along for the ride in the hopes there would be a chance to exact revenge.

Kodiak dug into his memories, seeking an answer in the darting, hazy sea of memories. One stood before the others that were shying away. It came at his consciousness like a roiling wave of feelings. Anger, pain, and above all else, hunger. In a world of black and gray morality, this was something decidedly and wholly evil.

"The Flood." He said, his words carrying heavy meaning.

Dyne accepted this, too, passively. "Then what's the plan?"

The tone of cocky defiance he usually had when he said the phrase was missing. Any emotion was absent from the statement. Dyne knew and feared the Flood as much as any being who understood it, and right now he didn't care if he was thrown against it. To Kodiak, Dyne was doing what he needed him to do, but for the wrong reasons. And it was corrupting every fiber of his being.

"Help as best we can." Kodiak said, still uncertain why he had been instructed to go there or what he would do. He turned it in a different direction. "You should really let Aspen into the cargo bay before we arrive, to . . . take care of Morgan's body."

"Why?" he asked bitterly. "He already tried reviving her. She's dead. I patched and vac-sealed her armor and laid her in a cryo tube." A pause allowed sentimentality to creep into his voice. "Now time will never touch her."

Kodiak wasn't sure what to say, and the geas didn't offer any help. Drawing from his own experience as a leader, he said cautiously, "You can't blame yourself for her death."

"I don't." Dyne replied, constraining cold fury. He blamed another.

So here it was. The heart of what had made this matter so personal to them. It hadn't been random gunfire or artillery that killed Morgan, they knew to accept that death happened on a battlefield. It was the betrayal that made drove a need for revenge, a retribution beyond simple balancing of the scales. Sepia was alive, and now she was their enemy.

Growing up on Onyx, she'd been as much a part of Machete Team as Dyne or Kodiak. They'd trained, suffered defeat and savored victory together. The three had mourned the loss of Sam and Marcus in the augmentations, and fought the Covenant for the first time, on Earth, together. For ten years, they had explored entire worlds, being blood relatives couldn't have made them closer.

Kodiak still remembered and was haunted by the day that Sepia deserted. When Dyne had to be confined to the brig, and Kodiak went out to bring her in. And how when he'd cornered her, Sepia fell to certain death, her body never recovered. That pain he'd felt at her death had been a lie.

Two weeks ago, fighting with rogue Elites over some forsaken relic, Dyne had watched as Sepia, the dull gold armor altered but undeniably hers, dealt Morgan a fatal wound. This was the most underhanded stab in the back that could have been dealt to them. It was no wonder Dyne had changed so much. Kodiak was mildly surprised that he wasn't calling for her blood himself. "Sepia . . . can wait. Right now, we need to help fight the Flood. We can find her afterwards."

"How do you know we'll have a chance of finding her? The whole UNSC thought she was dead for a decade, every second she's getting farther away and better hidden."

Kodiak couldn't let disunity hinder them now. He said replied just as angrily, "Because we'll '''just keep looking'''. I know more and more, but I understand less and less. One thing I do understand is that we can't afford to abandon the people on Jericho to hunt her down."

Silence returned between them, its hold on them unbroken until the bridge door opened behind them and let glaring light flood in briefly from the hallway, in stepping three more SPARTANs.

The last two of Bayonet, Morgan's original team, were first. Branwyn and Andor held their helmets under their arms, staring quietly at the two of them. Aspen was technically from Beta Company, but had 'washed out' because of some of the augmentations failed to take. Trained as a medic and one of the instructors for Gamma Company, he'd finally been deployed once he'd been readministered the augments with Gamma.

Kodiak breathed outward exasperatedly. This was when he was supposed to deliver some kind of briefing, prepare them for what was ahead and give them a leader they'd need now more than ever. But he was in the worst possible position to do that. "Alright then, people. We're coming up on Jericho VII, which has been attacked by the Flood."

They all looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to remove his helmet. He always had before.

Not today. He continued, "We're going to be joining whatever resistance has already been formed, based on how these things have gone in the past, we're likely to be just holding them back while evacuation efforts are made. Aspen, the ''Nightshade'''s medical station has a respirator that can help people who've breathed in Flood spores. Pack it up, we're bringing it with us."

This allowed for a pause as Aspen turned for the door. Bryn donned her helmet, the armor concealing her flowing golden brown hair and eyes. Andor followed suit, not wanting to be the only one whose face was readable. Before Aspen reached the door, it opened seemingly of its own accord to reveal another armored silhouette in the light.

Kodiak had no urge to yell, "Officer on deck" when Coney stepped in. She had the others' attention anyway. The four SPARTANs helmets swiveled as Erin entered, locked on this new and unfamiliar suit of armor.

"Lieutenant." Kodiak addressed her, half to confirm their suspicions.

Before he had a chance to say anything further, Jasmine's voice intervened. "Transitioning to normal space in ten seconds."

All six of them immediately focused their attention on the bridge's main screen. For a few moments, all it showed was the empty, imperceptible plane of slipspace.

"Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

The darkness was suddenly filled with the bright dots of stars. To port, the single yellow star of Lambda Serpentis shone, casting rays on the single habitable planet in the system hanging directly in front of them.

Jericho VII hadn't changed much since Kodiak had last seen it, a few years ago. Still recovering from when the Covenant had glassed it, most of its surface was barren wasteland unsuitable for life as we know it. But on one southern edge of a continent, green flourished, forests covering the coastline and moving inland. Ion had helped survey the planet for recolonization, and now part of the region had been built up by urban expansion.

And that was when he saw it. Just north of where the colony lay, a sickly, pale blotch had made its mark upon the planet. He'd been right. The Flood had a foothold, and might be in position to dominate a much wider part of the galaxy.

"We are being hailed." Jasmine reported. "UNSC priority frequency. Shall I recognize it?"

"Yes, Jas. Go ahead." Kodiak stood where the AI could see him and broadcast his image to the one hailing them. Though a new voice came through the speakers, no video covered their view of Jericho.

"This is Rear Admiral Aaron Gibson of the UNSC _Point of No Return_. Who am I speaking to?"

Kodiak straightened at the very mention of such a high rank. Gibson was well-known to say the least, and the _Point_ had a reputation all its own. "Specialist-5 Kodiak-G114, aboard prowler _Nightshade_. We've come to assist."

"How did you get here so quickly?" the Admiral asked. "We were only able to get off a distress call under twelve days ago, besides the two CAR-class frigates, we weren't expecting help to arrive for at least days."

Covenant ships? They must have been allied Sangheili. "We were already en-route when you sent that call. What's it look like on the ground?"

"_Nightshade_, what is your force complement?"

"Five SPARTAN-IIIs and one ORION operative, sir." Kodiak answered hesitantly. He heard Gibson mutter 'Christ' and a few other choice curses, probably not meant for him to hear.

"Not what I was hoping for, but I'll take anything I can get. The _Point_ was already in the system when this started, but the infection started too close to the colony for us to use nuclear or other heavy ordnance. By the time the two Sangheili ships got here, they had established themselves underground as well as a strong presence on the surface. They're using excavation beams to glass deep-down, but we're loosing ground all the time. If I may ask, who is the ORION you have with you?"

Kodiak didn't need to answer for her. "Lieutenant Erin Coney, sir." She said, stepping forward. There was familiarity between them, for better or worse he couldn't tell.

"Codename: THORN?" Gibson sounded surprised. "This just keeps getting more interesting. I would ask you what you're doing running around in a prowler with five SPARTANs, but we don't have the time. I'd advise you to gear up, I'm sending you deployment orders now . . . but one last thing, why didn't you respond rather than the Specialist when I hailed you?"

Kodiak said, "That's kind of complicated, sir."

Interest rose in his voice as if he was shifting his invisible eyes back to Kodiak. "I see . . . getting to your deployment point will take time. I want to use those few minutes to speak with the Specialist in private."

Aware he could see her, Erin nodded curtly and led the other SPARTANs out to collect weapons and equipment they would or might need. After the door slid shut behind them, the planet in the wide window was blocked out as the scene of another ship's bridge was projected onto it. By the empty looks of things, the _Point_'s command crew had also cleared out, leaving behind a single man in the commanding officer's chair. He was a great deal older than the man Kodiak had seen in the textbooks he'd studied. But then, that had been a long time ago.

"If you were already destined for Jericho when we sent our call," Gibson began, "then you have another reason for coming here. Are you willing to tell me or do I have to order you to?"

Kodiak gulped. "It's a difficult question to answer, sir. But it was because of the Flood."

The man's eyes bored into him. "You had early warning of them?"

"Not early, sir." He said, trying to convey meaning without details. This could be a dangerous game, and he knew he was dealing with a far more experienced player. "But . . . a warning."

To him, the Admiral was more unreadable than Erin when she was playing cards. And Gibson was probably reading him like an open book. Looking thoughtful, the Admiral seemed to read his discomfort and because he was a rookie player at Intel games, saw he was no threat and a potential ally. "There has been one other unscheduled arrival here, coming from the same trajectory as your ship. A CCS-class Cruiser exited slipspace four days ago, refusing to acknowledge our hails. It ignored ''the Flood'', and even fired upon escort ships we sent to rendezvous with it. They started excavating a plot of glassed-over land near where the ground battle is happening and are still there now. The stranger thing is that the Flood aren't putting all they have toward assaulting the colony. They're pushing towards whatever that rogue ship is digging up."

Gibson leaned forward. "We've corralled them for now, but the frigates can't hold much longer. That's why I need you to help the evacuation. Pull off some of the heroics you're legendary for. There are other SPARTANs already on the ground, and they were working on a plan the last time they contacted us. After you accomplish that mission, you can chase your mystery ship all you like, I won't stop you. But if you want help taking them on with your little stealth freighter, and you will, I'll need a full explanation of what is going on between you, them, and Coney, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Kodiak answered with a salute. This was the Admiral's way of warning him that he could be a dangerous enemy, but that he'd added this information at all was an invitation for personal alliance against other ONI machinations. It was an offer Kodiak accepted readily, and he said, "The only reason I can't clarify is because I'm still figuring things out myself."

This put Gibson at ease, glad to have gained an ally rather than an enemy. "If you're the one leading Coney, and not the other way around, it makes me all the more interested in what you're doing. That woman has quite a history, you know. Parangosky always had her own little black ops agents running around aspiring to be more. She gives them power, and uses them for her own ends until they outgrow their usefulness, and then kills them off before they can become threats. But THORN was the first, and Parangosky didn't recognize when she had grown beyond her control."

Kodiak wasn't sure part of him or another's consciousness that told him to say more, but he added, "Sir, we do have ties to the appearance of that cruiser. There is a rogue Spartan aboard it, allied with the Elites. She was thought to be MIA, according to Directive 930. She's killed another Spartan and we intend to go after her. It's Sepia, Gamma Three-Thirty."

At the mention of her name, Gibson's eyes widened, but Kodiak still couldn't identify his emotions. Shock, certainly. Disbelief? Loss? Whatever it was, it quickly vanished as his jaw tightened, and he asked, "Spartan, how much do you know about me?"

He wasn't sure why the officer was asking, but complied. "Captain in the Office of Naval Intelligence through most of the Human-Covenant War, believed dead for a short time in the last years. When you returned, you were promoted to Rear Admiral of the Lower Half while many others came under investigation. But, last I'd heard, sir, you had retired."

Gibson looked relieved, as if something had briefly worried him. Kodiak hoped it wasn't something he'd said, but he couldn't imagine what it might have been. The Admiral said earnestly, "I did. But when something like the Flood comes up, people will look to anyone for help. Desperate measures. Well, carry on, Spartan. Contact us when you're ready to deploy."

"Will do, sir." Kodiak said. With the link closed, he went to join his team and mentally prepared himself for the sort of desperate fight other SPARTANs were known for.

**3: End of a World**

The last thing Jessica Marin grabbed before leaving her home behind was their family portrait. It had been taken only a few years ago, when her husband had been assigned to the military base set up outside of the city. No more of him leaving for a whole other system and getting little word from him, wondering when or secretly if he would ever return. In the photo, Derek stood tall, she by his side, with their children John and Tristan smiling in front of them. It was probably one of the happiest memories of her life. So different and not so long ago from the present.

Now, she held John's hand tightly in hers as she fled down a dark, rubble-strewn alley where she would have never gone before. But now her life and the life of her son depended on getting to the launch pad for their shuttle quickly.

Jess stopped short of the next street, which was packed with people fleeing in one direction, shouting and crying out. Gunfire could be heard behind them, and not far away. Jessica gripped her son's hand tighter to make sure she didn't lose him, and pushed her way into the crowd.

Not even two weeks ago, Derek had been called to fight, everyone that had been off-duty was suddenly called, and many men were recruited or dragged away to help. The colonial administration was silent on the matter, but before long rumors circulated and they were forced to come out with the truth.

The Flood was on Jericho. Instantly, chaos had erupted as people began leaving the planet. Even for the richest on the colony, shuttle tickets suddenly cost you everything, even the clothes on your back . . . and sometimes more. Every bit of scum with a ship was trading people their lives for their livelihoods. People who couldn't escape formed bands and looted what they could, murders even became common with the whole police force conscripted to fight the creatures. For the first time in more than ten years, Jess had locked, bolted, then barricaded their door.

She'd talked to Derek and her other twin, Tristan, once since they'd both left to fight. His tone was urgent, she and John needed to leave, now. The Flood couldn't be held back any longer. He'd sent two tickets, for Colonial Skyways. One-way.

Their lives now depended on reaching that shuttle. In the sea of faces, Jess briefly saw the bloodied face of a man who'd fallen and was being trampled by the crowd, but the tide pushed her out of sight of him. Not willing to let the same thing happen to John, she pushed her way back to the side of the street and into the alcove of a small shop's entrance. Putting her son between her and the wall, Jess looked back to where the trailing edge of the crowd was, and saw the man's lifeless body lying in the street.

More gunfire and explosions sounded. A low artillery shell passed over the rooftops, and Jess traced it until it fell to ground, farther down the street.

Beyond the line of disorganized Marines, more fleeing than falling back, the blast overshot and served to illuminate the shadows of the first wave. They wore tattered remnants of military and even civilian clothes, and walked on two legs, but their similarity to anything humanoid stopped there. Horrid, shapeless bodies were mounted above, in some places could be seen a discolored arm or even worse a head, but for the most part were bloated and bore powerful tendrils sprouting from their shapes.

Despite herself, Jess screamed at the sight of them, and pulled John with her after the retreating crowd. They caught up easily, everyone else was slowing down for some reason. Jess looked up, and at the end of the street sighted the tower, and the shuttle hovering over the side of its roof. For a moment, it gave her a new surge of desperate energy, they were so close. Then she noticed something was wrong.

The crowd had stopped far from the base of the building, and many were even turning back, causing even more chaos. Jessica's desperate thoughts couldn't stop the shuttle from lifting off, as twisted shapes leaped off the roof after it. More human bodies were being cast from the top of the building, falling to the ground below. The Flood had gotten there first.

With the Flood so close, the pilot must not have been paying attention. Another evacuation shuttle flying low over the rooftops was too slow to avoid the collision as the vessel pulled away from the rooftop, and both ships dropped out of the sky and exploded on the ground, killing groups of Flood and whoever had been onboard.

The Marines' makeshift wood and barbed wire barricades had fallen, both behind and in front of them. As others tried to find other places to run or just wailed in despair, Jess sank to her knees and looked John in the eye. Both of them had tears running down their faces.

Jess reached for her bag. Derek, against her protests, had given her a sleek, black handgun. She had hated to pack the silenced M6, and had only brought the one clip already loaded. If it came to a situation like this, she knew she'd only need two bullets.

She felt its outline before she opened the bag, and was about to when her hair was whipped around by sudden, strong air currents.

Jessica looked up to see the dark shape of a spaceship blotting out the sun, descending rapidly. As the rest of the crowd looked up at it and shouted, a quartet of Archer missiles streamed from its bow and crashed into the front line of the Flood in front of them. Jess was surprised a ship that size could mount such weapons. Point defense railguns immediately began firing, devastating the other horde and driving back those in front. As the weapons pounded, the ship lowered to street level, a wide door opened up, and from out of it stepped the heavily-armored forms of SPARTANs.

The leader, in white and blue armor, called, "Get inside! Everyone!"

An odd feeling of familiarity brushed her mind at the sight of him, but Jess didn't let the thought get in the way of her chance to escape. At the front of those who got aboard, she was able to reach out briefly and put her hand on the arm of a light brown Spartan firing a battle rifle over the heads of the crowd. "Thank you." She said, but if he heard it, his only response was to fire more rounds.

While Jessica, her son, and the rest of the crowd pushed in desperately, Erin in her black armor commanded, "Jasmine, once you've got everyone you can onboard, interface with the _Point_'s AI and transfer them aboard it."

"I will comply." She stated calmly. Erin hated that most AIs never seemed to feel the seriousness of situations.

Sepia stood on a dirt field strewn with wreckage, opposite her old teammates, Kodiak and Dyne. Sepia had an energy sword, Kodiak a sword and assault rifle, Dyne a sniper rifle. None of them moved, waiting for the right moment, the right tactic.

She flashed on her weapon, and the other two flipped up their rifles and opened fire on her. She slid sideways behind a burning Banshee as bullets sparked off her shielding. As soon as she was in cover, the barrage stopped. The white-armored Spartan crouched behind a plate of steel, and reloaded as the other ran off somewhere. Sepia chose to focus on Kodiak, and threw out a plasma grenade. Kodiak had to duck back into cover, and she took the opportunity to dash across the distance between them.

With her sword ready, she leaped over the grenade's subsiding plasma and locked blades with her brother. They were evenly strong, but she was more agile, quicker. She twisted, pushing away Kodiak's blade and kicked him in his helmet's faceplate, shattering it. As he stumbled back she readied to kill him when the hum caught her attention.

Dyne sat in the seat of a Ghost, and opened fire with the vehicle's cannons. She sprinted back, plasma melting the dirt where her feet were a moment before. Dyne followed, and lined up her path, then hit the hoversled's boosters.

She saw him coming, and waited as he bore down on her. Then at the right moment, she fell back and angled up the tips of her blade. The fuel line was severed. For a moment, it passed quietly over her, then exploded violently and tumbled across the field.

Sepia stood calmly and walked to where the pilot lay, still struggling to get to his rifle. With one quick sweep, she beheaded him and walked away from her kill. Kodiak had removed his helmet and was charging her, the energy sword ready. She slapped the strike away with a flick of her wrist, and plunged the glowing blades of her sword into her brother's chest.

Kodiak looked down at the mortal wound, then up at her. Though he could not have seen her through the visor, she met his gaze and for a moment, could not shake him off. Sepia felt a sudden and sickening pang in her stomach as she met the golden irises, when suddenly the hologram faded, leaving only the darkened Illusionary room on the_ ''Renewed Strength''_.

She fell to her knees, breathing heavily and sweat beading on her brow. She tore off the headset, modified to fit her skull and make use of her Spartan neural implant. She'd ran this simulation over and over again for the last few days. Why had this one been different?

"It almost seemed easy for you."

Sepia looked up, and saw Vract 'Aeramee leaning against the wall, next to the door.

"Were you spying on me?" she asked angrily, standing up.

The powerful-looking Sangheili, clad in his emerald armor, approached with false innocence, his mandibles set in the imitation of a grin. "Only observing. The pair of them didn't last long, did they? Only . . ."

When he lapsed into silence, Sepia's patience didn't last. "What?"

"This room builds from your memories and the creations of your mind. But when you looked into the other demon's eyes, there was something there . . . regret, sadness perhaps?"

Her lips curled in disgust. "I will not hesitate if the time comes."

"The time ''has'' come." Vract said, keeping his distance as she stood. "If you are to execute your plan, it must be now, while the humans are in disarray and the Flood have not yet seized the planet. A dropship awaits you."

He took his leave. Sepia despised him, Vract was possibly the only Elite on the ship not blinded by the Prophet of Redemption's words. While it spoke well of him, at the moment he posed a threat to Sepia's plans. If he uncovered the truth about the Halos and either revolted against Redemption or changed the Prophet's mind, she would lose their help in her own noble quest.

Her task was the first she hadn't been ordered to complete, and might have been the most ambitious taken on by such a small player in the universe's games. But she stood to gain several key advantages, the first of which lay in the heart of Jericho's colony.

Sepia went to collect a number of weapons to use for the last time she would don her MJOLNIR Mark V HAZOP Armor, prepared to take the first of many risks ahead of her. She never had been one for easy tasks.


End file.
